


The Pulse of a Heartbeat

by RandomReader13



Series: Dark Angels and Demon Brats [12]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Found Family Bingo, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Past Child Abuse, Tumblr Prompt, and hooo boy it's not pretty, diving deeper into how the League works, fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomReader13/pseuds/RandomReader13
Summary: Weakness in the League is a death sentence. Mara's not going to take it lying down.
Relationships: Mara al Ghul & Jason Todd
Series: Dark Angels and Demon Brats [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1214049
Comments: 19
Kudos: 100





	The Pulse of a Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rihanna999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rihanna999/gifts).



> This one is for shadowspecre who asked for my Forehead Kiss bingo square on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theawkwardvirgin) and Rihanna999 who asked for a Mara sickfic in a comment!
> 
> Title's from Battle Scars by Paradise Fears (who I just found and they're great)

It started in the mountains. The youngest group of trainees had been taken up for endurance testing: five days, no supplies, no shelter, no weapons. If they survived the test, they would have only one more test before the next phase of their training. Mara had survived, along with four others. Six small bodies were left to rot in the wilderness. It was no matter, the Demon’s Head did not want subpar agents. Better they die now than fail a mission later and put the entire League in danger. That is what their instructor said when Kadir cried. One of the bodies had been his sister and he had tried to drag it onto the plane. Their  mudarris kicked the body away and threatened to leave Kadir with it. Mara kept her eyes fixed on the wall of the plane, her arms folded behind her back, feet hip-width apart. She did not flinch at the thud of fists on skin. Kadir was lucky he was the youngest of their group, only four years old. Crying earned more than a short beating when they grew older, Mara had heard the screaming from the barracks down the hall enough times to know that.

When Kadir finally stopped his shameful sniveling and stood in formation with the rest of them, an ugly bruise rising on his cheekbone, their  mudarris turned to face them all. “Who do you serve?” he barked.

“The Demon’s Head!” they shouted.

“When do you serve him?”

“Until death!”

“How do you serve him?”

“However he demands!”

Their  mudarris walked down their short line, staring at them all with narrowed eyes. “Your lives are the Demon Head’s. You live at his will and you die at his will.” He jerked a hand towards the exit ramp, the small body sprawled in the dirt still visible. “Those failures are nothing to you. No one who fails the Demon’s Head is worthy of life.” He turned back down the line, stopping at Kadir. “Forget them,” he ordered.

“Yes,  Mudarris!” they chorused.

And Mara had done her best to follow the order. She didn’t allow herself to leave an open spot between herself and Daru at meals, she partnered with Genkai in training, and refused to let herself think of the six beds that now stood empty. She tried to leave the mountain and everything left on it behind. But it seemed that the mountain was not done with her.

Mara woke before the sun rose, as she did every day, and rolled out of bed, quickly folding the single, scratchy blanket. She had done this every day for as long as she could remember, but today something was different. Her limbs did not move as fast as they were supposed to, her head spun as she turned on her heel into parade rest, and her throat ached as she shouted the replies to their instructor’s questions.

_Who do you serve?_ Her heart was pounding in her chest.

_When do you serve him?_ She needed water, but she would not be getting it until she had completed morning training.

_How do you serve him?_ She could not shake her head to clear it, she had to be perfectly still.

Tabari led the way out of the barracks, being the eldest at seven now that- she cut the train of thought off sharply. They had to run three miles to fetch water. There were wells within the compound walls, but that was for people who mattered. The stream was good enough for servants, trainees, and livestock. Mara ran steadily, despite the pounding in her head. She could not waver or stumble or she would be met back at the compound with a cane. Their  mudarris may not be running beside them anymore, but he would be watching from the lookout posts. Besides, her head would only ache more if they did not make it back before the sun rose. At least now the sand was cool beneath her feet, the chill of the night still hanging in the air.

The stream ran slow and groggy in the summer months, and the five students placed their jugs -- in most cases bigger than their torsos -- carefully into the water. It would not do to dredge up mud to complete their task sooner. They drank last, and few things were as devastating as reaching for a drink of water after a hard training session only to find thin mud in its place.

Mara stood tall as her jug filled, though she wished to hunch over, put her hands on her knees and just breathe for a moment. Her throat was throbbing now, scraped raw when she swallowed. The stream looked amazingly cool and soothing, but she did not allow herself to drink, hefting her jug over her shoulders and turning back to the compound. A drink now would be giving up her water for the rest of the day, and she would not let a moment of weakness hurt her later.

She made it through the first training session through sheer force of will and shoved her way to the front of the tiny group to reach the water first. Their  mudarris didn’t care how uncouth they were when they weren’t supposed to be in parade rest or training, so she felt safe in sticking her head in the remaining jug and taking several deep, desperate swallows. After it became clear she wasn’t about to step aside and let the others have some, Tabari yanked her away from the jug and shoved her to the ground. She didn’t retaliate, too busy basking in the cool stream down her throat, the slightly-lessened pounding in her skull. It would be enough to last her through the second training session before they would be allowed their first meal.

The cough came in the night and Mara buried her face in her blanket, trying to stifle the noises. Parade rest that morning was hell, her whole body shaking as she rasped out the replies. Their  mudarris was watching her more closely than usual, his hand drifting to the cane hooked to his belt, opposite his sword, but he let her leave with the others for their morning run. The cold sweat that she hadn’t been able to shake dried on her skin in the morning heat and Mara couldn’t stop the tremors running through her body, no matter how hard she concentrated. The jug felt like it weighed a ton when she pulled the straps over her arms, the sand sucked at her feet, and she soon lagged behind the others, even Kadir who could barely lift his full jug.

She barely made it back to the compound, arriving long after the others in what could barely be called a jog, let alone a run, but she didn’t fall or spill her jug. Her tardiness earned her a sharp smack with the cane to her calves, the warning strike nearly causing her to trip, but she recovered her balance and hurried to place her jug with the others.

The sun seemed much hotter than usual as she ran through her katas, sharp hands and feet that would be deadly as soon as she got a little bigger. It felt like after it rained, when the air was more like soup, and she struggled to get a full breath.

The morning passed in a haze. She drank water that no longer quenched her thirst, forced down her full allotment of food, and trained with knives and staffs and fists. She was desperately grateful that they would not be required to learn poisons until they had passed their next test. She would kill herself in this state, with her vision blurring and spots floating in front of her eyes.

She earned five strokes of the cane the next morning. She was too slow to reply, she couldn’t stop the coughing, she broke out of formation. Mara’s chest was tight with more than just illness and for once she was grateful for her dehydration. It meant she couldn’t disgrace herself further with tears.

The others avoided her as they fetched their jugs. Mara did not blame them. It was dangerous to look as though you were sympathizing with a weak agent, and they did not want to catch whatever she had. It never occurred to Mara to go to the medical wing. That was for people that mattered, people who had earned the right to their lives.

The river wavered in her vision as she dragged herself to it. Her jug dropped from her weak fingers as she tried to lower it into the water, and she resigned herself to at least a little mud later. The others were already pulling on their full jugs, barely glancing at her before starting the run back. Usually Mara would be at the front of their group, always ahead, always succeeding. Now she watched them disappear into the desert and waited for her jug to fill. The sun was boring into her skull and her eyes unfocused, staring blankly at the floor. Her normal train of thoughts petered off, a quiet buzzing taking its place.

Her jug was full. She reached for it, fingers struggling to grasp. She was so tired, but she couldn’t rest. Even if she wouldn’t be punished for it, the desert was dangerous, far more dangerous than the mountains she had survived. The sun was a fatal enemy. If she fell asleep, she would die.

Mara hefted up her jug, spilling half of it as she struggled to haul it to the bank. She had to get up, she had to get it on her back, she had to make it back to the compound.

She didn’t even make it to the bank.

* * *

Grit and heat and a tongue swollen from dehydration. Mara’s eyes fluttered as she forced them open, a dark figure swimming slowly into focus above her. A vulture, come to check if the sun had finally finished the job.

“Hey, kiddo,” the vulture said, voice soft with concern. Mara blinked rapidly, brow furrowing. Her head gave a sharp spike of pain but her vision cleared a little and the vulture became Jason. “How are you feeling?”

“I-” Mara croaked. She didn’t get any further before a straw was being pressed to her lips and water was flooding her mouth in desperate gulps, pure and sweet and too-freely given. Mara turned her head away, and the cup hovered by her face for a second longer before it was taken away. She wanted to cry for its return, reach out a hand and drag it back to her, drink until her stomach burst and her headache drowned, but she couldn’t.

“Mara?” A cool hand pressed against her forehead and Mara couldn’t stop herself from leaning into it. Jason made a low humming in his throat. “Your fever is still high but you’re awake, so that’s good.” He turned away from her and Mara tensed. Of course he was leaving. She was a failure, she did not deserve to be treated, to be saved, she had failed the test with the water- A cool cloth was draped over her forehead and Mara blinked. Jason smiled a little at her. “That better? You should really drink more water, but it’s okay if you feel a bit too queasy right now. You shouldn’t rush anyway,” he continued, leaning his chair back on its rear legs to reach the switch on the wall that controlled the air conditioning. “You gotta take it easy when you’re sick.” His chair returned to its rightful balance and Jason tilted his head to the side, the concern in his eyes even more apparent now, like he was looking right through her, seeing the desert that lived in her chest, a constant reminder of strength and weakness and how she could never, ever be the latter.

A finger poked her lightly on the forehead. “Hey, you with me?”

“Yes,  Mudarris,” she managed to slur.

Jason’s face tightened and Mara’s whole body followed suit. “Hey, no, it’s okay,” he said, taking her hand. “Mara, take a breath, okay?” She sucked in a breath that rattled. “There you go.” He was rubbing little circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, in the soft spot near where her thumb and forefinger met. Mara stared down at their joined hands. “I’m gonna switch out that washcloth for a nice cold one, okay?” Jason reached forward slowly with his free hand. Mara watched it come with a kind of resigned peace. She would learn her punishment soon. Jason had not left her to die of sunstroke, but that did not mean she could be allowed to miss as much training as she had without consequences. But no, Jason had never used a cane on her, had never so much as raised a hand. Heatwaves blurred across her mind, past and present warping and merging. Mara closed her eyes tightly. There was soft cloth under her hand, not sand and coarse grass. The humming of an air conditioning unit, not the whirr of the few insects hardy enough to survive by the water. A gentle touch and voice, not the harsh ones belonging to her old teacher.

“Jason,” she said, opening her eyes.

“Hey, Mara. Are you with me now?”

She nodded slowly.

“Do you want more water?” His hand hovered over the cup.

She did. She really, really did. “I am not wor-” She cut off as the straw was poked decisively between her teeth. Jason met her startled gaze, eyes deadly serious.

“Mara, what have I been telling you?”

She looked away.

“Mara.”

“I-” she faltered. Jason just watched her steadily. “I...deserve to be healthy and happy,” she finally muttered. “I do not have to earn it. I am worthy because I am me.”

“Exactly.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you want some water?”

Mara looked down at her lap and nodded. This time she was not so dehydrated that her eyes couldn’t well up, and she tightened her fist around the covers. Jason didn’t comment on it, just held the cup steady for her while she forced herself to sip slowly. They sat in silence after she finished the glass.

“Okay, budge up,” Jason said. Mara looked up. He was standing expectantly at the side of her bed.

“What?”

“Scooch over.” He made a helpful flapping motion with his hands. Mara slowly moved over. Jason plopped himself down beside her, one arm automatically coming down around her shoulder. Mara tensed. Jason didn’t seem to notice, scooping up a remote from the bedside table and flipping on the tv. Mara watched him, not daring to breathe. “What do you wanna watch?” Jason asked.

Mara looked at the tv and shook her head.

“Stupid cartoons it is,” Jason said, selecting a channel. He was a warm wall pressed up against her, blocking her from the door. She knew that if anyone came through the window he would be up in half a second. She was...safe, here, with him. Mara slowly allowed herself to lean into Jason’s side, consciously releasing each bunched-up muscle with a slow exhale. She leaned her head against him, listening to his heartbeat. The steady rhythm made it difficult to keep her eyes open, and for once she allowed them to slide shut without a fight.

She was safe here.

Jason shifted beside her and Mara’s eyes fluttered but he didn't leave. A gentle kiss was pressed to her forehead. Mara smiled drowsily and let herself fall asleep.


End file.
